A Vital Lesson
by Elisa Trapt
Summary: Post Season 6. Audrey is getting worse, and her father is at a loss for what to do. Does Heller have the strength to give her what she needs the most?
1. Chapter 1

__

Hi, everyone! I know I haven't posted anything in a ridiculously long time. My 24_ Muse likes to take long hiatuses, I guess. I've been working on this one on and off for a while, and have finally gotten it to where I'm pretty happy with it. It's a Jack/Audrey piece (of course!), but from a somewhat different viewpoint. After_ Season 6_, I was not a big fan of Heller's. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to understand his point of view, and this story popped into my head. So here's the first chapter - please read, enjoy, and let me know what you think! Also, I want to give a BIG thank you to_ Joe's Girl _for beta reading for me, and for agreeing that "unamused" is a word, whether it actually is or not. :)_

* * *

They tell me there is nothing physically wrong with my daughter.

The drugs that were in her system are gone, thankfully not designed to have long-lasting effects. Scans of her brain show that there is no swelling or damage. Her heart is strong, her lungs and other organs are all doing their jobs at peak efficiency. Beyond a few bruises and cuts, which are already mostly healed, she is a healthy woman. Normal.

And yet, they cannot tell me why she hardly opens her eyes, or why she can't focus on anything when she does. They cannot tell me why she barely speaks, or why she can't sit up and smile at me. They cannot tell me how long I should expect her to be like this or the likelihood that she will come out of it.

They cannot tell me what is wrong with her.

And so they cannot tell me how to fix it.

* * *

Audrey sleeps for days at a time. If I didn't know better, I would say she is peaceful. Her face betrays no signs of the torture she suffered, or the fear she must have experienced. She shows no signs of the months she must have spent hoping, praying someone was coming for her. I cannot bear to think about it too closely, or the anger overtakes me.

The anger with myself is the worst – that I didn't do more, that I didn't insist more was done, that I believed it was the truth when they told me she was dead. A father should feel these things, shouldn't he? I should have_ felt_ she was still alive. And I didn't. And I failed her.

But when I'm done blaming myself, there's also a healthy dose of anger reserved for someone else. It's anger for a man I used to trust with my life; a man I now hold responsible for Audrey's situation. A man whose life I would happily take if it meant getting my daughter back.

* * *

Audrey has a nurse, Amanda, who comes in every day to check on her, and takes care of all her medical needs. She makes sure she is getting the proper nutrition and fluids. She takes care of changing the sheets and personal hygiene.

She is a cheerful woman, and the entire time she's in the room with Audrey, I can hear her chattering away to her. I don't think what she's saying is of any great consequence, but she does it every day, nonetheless. In fact, she encourages me to do the same. She says I should talk to her whenever possible, that maybe Audrey can hear me, that maybe it will help spark something in her.

I've tried. But it seems that most of the time when I sit by her bed, I'm rendered mute. I take her hand, and start talking, but as I look down on her, all I see is my little girl with the pigtails and easy smile, and I stop talking and simply stare.

I kiss her hand and start praying instead. To which god, I'm not sure, but my hope is that someone is listening.

To say Audrey does not speak at all is not entirely accurate. She mumbles things occasionally, sometimes in her sleep and sometimes in the rare moments when her eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling without seeing. Most of the time, I can't make out the words. I've heard "dark" and "please" and "leave," but even those are not entirely clear. And since these words are accompanied by agitation, I'm usually working on calming her down, murmuring softly to her until she sighs and is still. I don't have the luxury of studying what she's saying.

There's only one word she says that I can make out clearly. One name. She says it without becoming upset or looking as if she's in pain. She says it like a plea.

And it happens to be the one name I never want to hear again in my life.

* * *

I've hired a psychologist to evaluate Audrey. Dr. Arthur Jensen comes highly recommended, and I've heard he is as discreet as he is successful, which suits me just fine. He arrives in the afternoon, and I tell him a little bit about Audrey's situation before leading him up to her room. I hover at the foot of the bed while he evaluates her, but then he politely but firmly asks me to wait downstairs. I want to argue with him, but I also want him to help her, so I leave the room and pace downstairs until he descends. I stop and wait.

"What do you think, Doctor?" I ask. "Can you help my daughter?"

Jensen frowns. "I can try, Mr. Heller, but I'm not going to lie to you, this will not be easy. She's extremely non-responsive. "

I'm suddenly irritated. "Yes, I know that, Doctor. The question is, can you help her?"

He nods. "We'll start tomorrow."

* * *

It's been two weeks now since Dr. Jensen started working with Audrey, and much to my frustration, there has not been much progress. He keeps trying to remind me that these things take time. But this has already taken too much time. Too much of my daughter's life has been lost, too much time has been taken from her. She deserves more than this, after everything she's been through.

I've been standing in the doorway for several of Dr. Jensen's sessions. He has tried to get her to respond with various techniques, but beyond blinking and moving her hand occasionally, there has been no change. Today, as it is a day when her eyes are actually open, he is trying to prompt her to speak by showing her some flashcards. He's been holding them up, patiently repeating the word that's on the picture. But Audrey stares blankly. The doctor glances over at me.

"You say she has spoken, right?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes, she has."

I don't tell him what she's been saying, though in all honesty I doubt the words I've managed to piece together would be much help. And the one word I do understand cannot help her. Ever. Besides, she hasn't said it since the doctor started working with her, and I hope that means she's forgotten about it.

"Is there anything in particular you can remember that triggers her to speak?" he asks me.

_Ask her if there's anything you can do for her. Ask her if she needs anything._

"No," I answer. "Nothing in particular."

"Is there _someone _she responds to at all?" he asks.

_There's one…_ But before I can tell him "no" and deflect the question, Audrey turns her head toward the doctor.

"Jack," she whispers. Dr. Jensen glances down at Audrey and then at me, clearly surprised. He looks back down at the bed.

"What was that, Audrey? What did you just say?"

"Jack," she repeats, more clearly this time.

My heart sinks.

* * *

Dr. Jensen has asked me to meet him at his office. I think he hopes I will be more receptive to what he has to say if I'm not in my own house. So I leave Amanda chatting with Audrey, and arrive at the doctor's practice at the appointed time. His assistant shows me into his office, and lets me know that the doctor will be with me in a few minutes.

I don't wait long. I hear the doctor say goodbye to a patient, and then he walks into his office.

"Mr. Heller," he says with a smile, shaking my hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, Doctor," I say.

"I asked you here to discuss Audrey's case," he tells me, settling behind his desk.

"What about it?" I ask, though I can guess what he wants to discuss. He's tried before, and the conversation didn't go well.

"I know you're aware that there hasn't been much progress," he says. "I know it's frustrating you as much as it is me. Probably more."

I nod. "I just want my daughter to get better."

Dr. Jensen nods in return. "I know that. But there's something preventing her from coming back. Or rather, there's something she's missing."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

He takes a deep breath. "Mr. Heller, I know we've discussed this before, but I feel I must address it again. Audrey keeps saying the name 'Jack' now in almost every session of ours. In order to move forward, in order to help your daughter I need to know – who is Jack?"

I stiffen immediately, but attempt to remain calm. "I've told you already, he's no one."

Dr. Jensen doesn't look surprised at my resistance. In fact, I'm sure he expected it, given our last conversation on the subject.

"Mr. Heller, Audrey thinks differently. If this man, Jack, is important to her, then you need to tell me about him. Find him if you can. Because if he can help Audrey in any way–"

I stand up, glaring at him.

"He most certainly _cannot_ help Audrey. Ever. He's the reason she is how she is. So if you can't come up with another idea of how to treat my daughter, if this is your only suggestion, then I will find Audrey another doctor."

And before he can respond, I leave his office, storming past the surprised receptionist. Only after I'm outside do I take a deep breath, and realize I'm shaking. I don't know if it's because I'm certain about not taking the doctor's advice…or because I'm not.

* * *

Dr. Jensen is back today, against my better judgment, working with Audrey. After our conversation, he called and apologized, and assured me he hadn't run out of ideas yet. But I'm wary of him now, and I've taken up position in the hallway where he can't see me, hoping that maybe today is the day something gets through to her, anything. _Please, baby,_ I silently beg, _please, I need you get out of this_.

He's trying to get a response from her with various stimuli, but I can tell even without looking there's little progress. He tries for half an hour, but there is no change. There is silence for a few moments, and I assume he's packing up, getting ready to go. But when I glance through the door, he's leaning close to her ear, and I hear him say in a low voice,

"Audrey, who's Jack?"

That son of a….I burst through the door, ready to pull him away from her. He stands up, obviously surprised to see me, and I grab him roughly by the lapels of his sport coat.

"I thought I made it quite clear the other day that that name is not up for discussion with her. Or did you not understand that?"

He shoves me back, breaking my hold on him.

"Yes, I understood you just fine. But Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, if you know where this Jack person is, then you'd better take your head out of your ass and find him. Because he might be the only person who can help your daughter."

"Get out," I say, with barely controlled anger.

"You're not helping her by–"

"Get. Out."

Jensen looks at me for a moment, and then grabs his bag, and starts walking toward the door.

"She's not going to get better until you let her face whatever makes her say one man's name over and over again," he says before disappearing through the door. I stand rigid until he's gone.

I sit down next to my daughter and take her hand.

"Audie," I whisper, leaning over her, trying to catch her eye. "Audie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to come back to me, sweetheart. Just come back to me." She seems to hear me, and actually turns toward me slightly. I hold my breath.

"Jack?" she whispers, uncertainly. I sigh and lean back. Audrey closes her eyes, and in a few minutes, I hear the steady breathing that indicates she's asleep. I place her hand back on the bed and walk into the hall. Halfway to my own room, I turn and hit the wall hard with my open palm.

"Goddamn it."

I stand like that, with my hand stinging, weighing my options. But I know there's really only one. There's always only been one, as much as I've tried to convince myself otherwise. I walk into my room, pick up the phone, and make the call I swore I'd never make.

And old contact of mine at the DOD picks up the phone.

"Find him," I say.

* * *

I'm told he now works at a private security company, as a special advisor. Frankly, I'm a little surprised at how easy he was to find, and even more surprised that he's still in the area. I assumed he would have either disappeared again or would have ended up a thousand miles away, not in an office building doing something so…mundane. I consider sending one of my staff to approach him, but I know that's not really an option. I will have to go myself.

The security company is located in an unassuming building, and no one passing by would know what the company does. Even the name, Hackett Enterprises, does little to shed light on the business. But when I walk into the cool marble lobby, it is clear the company is synonymous with security, power, discretion. I can see what must have attracted him.

I walk up to the front desk, where a young woman is busy answering phones. She looks up at me, taking in the two security men who are standing at a distance behind me, but who are still clearly mine.

"Can I help you?" she asks. That she doesn't recognize me is obvious, and something I'm not used to much anymore. It would make this easier if she recognized me.

"I'm here to see Jack Bauer," I say, in a tone I hope makes it clear there is no other option but to see him. But the girl is unimpressed.

"Do you have an appointment?"

I look at her incredulously, and just as I'm about to ask her if she thinks the Secretary of Defense needs an appointment, a man comes striding toward me from a bank of elevators.

"Mr. Secretary," he says with a smile, holding out his hand. I shake it. "Michael Logan, I'm the vice president of Hackett Enterprises. What a surprise, we didn't know you were coming. What can I help you with?" This is the response I was looking for.

"Mr. Logan," I say, "I'm sorry to interrupt your day, but I need to speak with an employee of yours. Jack Bauer."

He looks concerned. "Jack? What is this regarding?"

I don't answer his question. "It's important that I speak with him," I say as pleasantly and firmly as possible. Logan looks at me for a moment, glances back at my men, and finally nods.

"Come with me."

We step into an elevator, and make our way up to the top floor, where we walk out into a plush carpeted hallway. Large offices extend on both sides, and at the end there is a large conference room where I can see several men and women are gathered. Half way down the hall, Logan turns to me.

"Please wait here, Mr. Secretary, I'll go get him."

Logan walks into the conference room, and as the group looks up, I finally see Jack in profile. Logan speaks to him, and as he gestures to me, Jack turns his head and catches my eye. His expression hardens. For a minute, I'm forced to consider what I might have to do if he refuses to see me, but then he puts down what he's holding, and follows Logan out of the room and down the hall. As he approaches, I nod at him and extend my hand.

"Jack," I say. But he only stops in front of me and stares coolly. I hold his stare. Logan looks between us, nervously.

"Gentleman," he says, stepping to the right and opening the door there. "If there's something you need to discuss, please feel free to use this office as long as you'd like."

My eyes leave Jack's and I look at Logan.

"Thank you," I say and turn and walk through the door. I know Jack will follow me. As angry as he is, he wants to know why I'm here. I turn toward him as the door closes.

"Jack, than–" I start, but he cuts me off.

"What do you want?" he asks, glaring. I have somehow forgotten how direct he can be, how he doesn't want things couched in pleasantries like most people do. I answer as clearly as I can, with words I'd hoped I would never have to say.

"I need your help."

Jack actually gives a short laugh, though his features indicate he's anything but amused.

"Go to hell," he responds, already turning on his heal.

Before I lose him, I'm forced to use my ace.

"It's Audrey," I say quietly.

That stops him, and he turns back. He doesn't say anything, but he's not walking out the door yet either. I have his attention.

"She's not doing well," I explain. "Her condition isn't much better from…from the last time you saw her."

I watch his reaction carefully, and maybe the most surprising thing is that there is little reaction at all. I'm puzzled until it suddenly hits me that this is not news to him. He knows. He knows exactly how Audrey is. How, I have no idea, but his continued presence in the area is now very clear. Is he paying one of my staff to give him information? Or is he simply slipping in and out of my house unnoticed, as I only know too well that he's capable of doing? Either thought infuriates me and my fists clench. I would like nothing more than to hit him at this very moment, but the knowledge that I need his help overrides the impulse.

If he notices my reaction, he gives no indication.

"What is it you think I can do?" he asks finally.

These are the last words I want to be saying to this man, this man who's responsible for everything my daughter's been through.

"Just…come see her. Her doctor seems to think your presence might be helpful, that she might respond to you."

"Why?"

He's really going to make me say it, and the urge to hit him is even stronger this time, particularly since I suspect he already knows why.

"Because," I answer in a measured tone, "One of the only words she'll say is your name."

It may be my imagination, but I think I see a flash in his eyes. He looks at me carefully. I know he's studying me, trying to figure out if I'm tricking him in some way, if there's more that I want and I'm using Audrey as an excuse. I look back at him with a level gaze, and he at last nods and turns toward the door. I have as much confirmation of his cooperation as he's willing to give me.

"When?" I ask as he's reaching for the knob.

"Soon," he replies. He's already stepping out the door.

"Jack," I call out, "Thank you."

He turns back toward me. "I'm not doing it for you."

I nod. "I know."

* * *

It's been a week since I spoke with Jack, and still he hasn't shown up at the house. And I fear that Audrey is getting worse. I've barely seen her with her eyes open this week.

This is not something I'm used to, waiting for someone else to make a move. If I thought I would get somewhere by going down to Hackett Enterprises and dragging him here, I would, but I know better. I didn't trust him once, and it nearly cost me and my daughter our lives. He will come if he said he will.

So I wait. And Audrey waits.

* * *

Two more days have passed, and I'm seriously reconsidering my decision not to contact him, when there's a knock on the door. It is early evening, and Amanda has just left for the day. I get up from the book I am reading, assuming that maybe she left something in the house. But even as I think that, I know that cannot be the case – Amanda has a key and wouldn't bother knocking.

When I open the door, Jack is standing there, still in his suit from work. He looks at me with something akin to loathing, and I imagine I'm giving him much the same look back.

We stare at each other, neither willing to make the first move to acknowledge the situation.

"This is not an invitation back into her life," I finally tell him. He considers me, and then nods, stepping toward the open door. I put my hand firmly on his shoulder as he attempts to step past me.

"It's not," I insist.

Jack looks down at my hand, and then up at me. I understand he's just barely controlling himself from shaking my grip loose.

"Understood," he grits out.

I drop my hand, and step aside.

I follow Jack up the stairs to Audrey's room. He walks into her room slowly, like he did so many months ago, and takes in the scene.

I watch from the doorway as he makes his way to the edge of her bed; he walks as if he's forcing one foot in front of the other. He looks down on my daughter. With his back toward me, I can't see his expression, but his head is bowed, his shoulders drawn together, and it's hard to believe this is the same man who just a few moments ago looked like he wanted to physically move me out of his way.

He draws up the chair near Audrey's bed and takes a seat, his eyes never leaving her. He only stares for several long minutes, and I begin to wonder if he's going to do anything or if he's simply unable to move.

But then he reaches out and gently slips his hand under her hand, closing his fingers around hers.

"I'm here, Audrey," I hear him whisper to her. "It's Jack. I'm here."

I hold my breath.

* * *

If I was expecting some kind of miracle, it has not to come. Audrey does not instantly wake to Jack's touch or his words. Her beautiful eyes don't suddenly open and find mine to let me know she's going to be all right. She does not reassure me with a smile.

Jack continues to speak to her in low tones, things I can't hear, and now his other hand is tentatively reaching out to touch her hair. I hear his sharp intake of breath as his fingers tangle through it. I am struck by how natural his touch looks, as if his fingers have finally come to rest exactly where they belong.

Goddamn him.

I want to run up behind him. I want to pull him away from the one thing he wants. If he can't bring her back immediately, then I don't want him to have any part of her. I want him to suffer. I want to rain punches down on him for putting my little girl in this position in the first place. I want to yell that she's mine.

But I don't do any of that.

Furious with myself for thinking it would be this easy, and for letting my hopes rest on Jack Bauer, I turn out of the room. I know I'm leaving Jack alone with Audrey, but I need to pull myself together. In the last few months, this situation has forced me to find a deeper patience than I knew I had, and I realize that causing a scene by Audrey's bedside will not help. And Jack will not harm Audrey sitting next to her. This much I know.

I lean against the wall outside the door, drawing deep breaths. How could I have been so naïve as to think this would work? To believe Dr. Jensen when he said Audrey needed him? Why would Audrey want to wake up for Jack? Why would she want to respond to the man who caused her nothing but sorrow? The man who stole her life? The man who–

My internal litany against Jack is interrupted by a sound in Audrey's room. It's a low, keening sound, and at first I don't recognize it. But when I hear it a second time, I think I know exactly what it is.

A glance into the room confirms my suspicion – with his head pressed against Audrey's shoulder, his one hand still caught in her hair and the other across her abdomen, Jack Bauer is sobbing.

* * *

I'm at the bottom of the stairs when Jack comes down. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never guess now that this man had broken down minutes ago. He looks as composed as I've ever seen him, and the expression on his face is one that's carefully constructed to show no emotion. He glances at me as he heads to the door.

"I'll be back soon," he informs me.

_Don't bother_, I want to say. _It didn't work_, I want to say. _I was wrong, I don't need your help. Don't ever come back. This is your fault. I want my little girl's life returned to her. You did this._

But for some reason, I say none of those things.

Instead, I nod.

* * *

The second time Jack visits, Audrey opens her eyes for the first time in weeks.

He arrives on a Saturday, early afternoon, unannounced again, this time dressed more casually in jeans and a button-up shirt. There is several days' stubble around his jaw, and I wonder if he purposely hasn't shaved, or if he's been too distracted to do so.

He's standing on my doorstep, and we are once again in a stand-off. There's nothing I'd like better than to tell him to get the hell off my property, that Audrey is just fine, and she doesn't need him. Ever again.

But I can't. I don't know what else to do, and if there's even a chance he can reach her….

I step aside, opening a space for him.

"You know the way," I say.

By the time I reach Audrey's doorway, Jack has already taken up position next to her. Her hand is already cradled in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Hey," he says softly, leaning forward. "Audrey, it's time to wake up. For me."

_Not for you,_ I want to tell him. _None of this is for you! It's only for her._

But I swallow the burning words in my throat. I can't chase him away. Not yet.

"I know you don't like waking up," Jack continues. "I know you think weekends are for sleeping in, but you've been sleeping too long."

A fist tightens in my chest. _You don't know a thing about her. _But I know this is not true, as much as I want it to be.

And then something happens. As I watch, Audrey's eyes flutter open. I straighten, sure I am imaging it, but I can see Jack sees it too. He's leaning even closer to her, and his hand is touching her cheek.

"Audrey?" he says.

I cannot move.

She turns slightly toward his voice, her eyes unfocused, her expression confused at best. And then her eyes land on Jack's face. She takes him in, and though it may just be my imagination again, I think I see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips before her eyes shut again.

Suddenly, I realize my legs do work, and in a few steps, I'm leaning over my daughter.

"Audrey?" I say, recognizing that my voice is too loud for the room. But I can't seem to control the adrenaline running through me. "Audie, it's Dad."

But she's already gone again.

I sink heavily onto the edge of the bed, staring at my daughter, disappointment washing over me. Am I ever going to reach her?

A movement out of the corner of my eye startles me, and I turn, having somehow momentarily forgotten Jack is in the room. He is placing Audrey's hand back down on the bed, and I think I can detect a slight tremor in him. But he regards me steadily when he realizes I'm looking at him, and then he stands up and walks out.

This time, he does not say anything to me as he leaves.

We both know he'll be back.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

It's a beautiful early summer day, and I find myself staring out at the ocean, thinking how much Audrey would love being outside right now, enjoying the sun and the beach beyond the house. She used to love the beach, particularly when she was little and her mother was still alive. When we were on vacation, they would wake up early in the morning to look for sea shells, and then bring them home where she would proudly show me what they'd found. I remember her grinning and holding up a big shell to my ear because her mother had just taught her that she could hear the ocean if she did that.

But now instead of wandering the beach, Audrey is trapped in the bed upstairs. And I doubt she can hear the surf, though I open the window sometimes just in case.

Jack has arrived, earlier than usual. If someone asked me right now how long he's been coming now, I'm not sure I could accurately say. A few days? No, at least a couple weeks. A month? Longer? All I know is that his presence is becoming so familiar, I almost didn't notice his arrival. It worries me. I never thought his visits would continue for this length of time, and the last thing I want is to be comfortable with Jack Bauer in my house. Nothing good can come of it. As soon as his immediate purpose here is complete, I will be asking him to leave. He knows – that much I've made very clear. I think he understands what his continued presence in her life would do to her.

And yet, I've given Jack a few moments alone upstairs, for reasons I can't even begin to explain. I tell myself it's because she's making progress. She's been opening her eyes for longer intervals, and whenever Jack speaks to her, she tilts her head in his direction.

At the same time, I want to tell myself that it has nothing to do with Jack, and her getting better since his arrival is only a coincidence. Her mind is simply ready to heal now, it was just on a different time table than we thought. But in more honest moments, I know that's not true – I can't get the same reaction from her.

Checking my watch, I turn from the ocean, and I make my way up to Audrey's room. When I get to the doorway, I stop, not daring to even hope that I'm seeing what I'm seeing.

Jack is sitting by the bed, a book open on his lap. He has taken to reading to her for periods of time, which Amanda has naturally encouraged. In fact, Audrey's nurse seems to have taken a liking to Jack, and I've heard them talking on several occasions. It seems she's taken his presence there in stride, and moves around Audrey's bed as if he's been there the entire time, as if she's always had to walk around Jack to tend to Audrey. It bothers me that she doesn't question who he is or that she's not more cautious around him. Or maybe she does know who he is, I really have no idea what he's told her. But either way, I keep meaning to speak to her about it. Jack Bauer's presence shouldn't be accepted by anyone in this house. He's not staying.

But at the moment, I'm not thinking about any of that. The book Jack's been reading is lying across his knees, forgotten, because he is staring intently at Audrey.

Audrey's eyes are open, which is a common occurrence these days, and not what surprises me. What surprises me, and has caught Jack's attention, is that she's looking around. She's focusing.

I don't know what to do. I'm caught between not moving an inch for fear of startling her and running over to her so I can look into her eyes.

But Jack apparently doesn't have the same problem. Moving slowly, he eases to the edge of the bed, lowering his weight by degrees until he's settled beside her.

"Audrey?" he says gently.

At the sound of his voice, her head turns toward him. A look of brief confusion crosses her features, and then she looks up at him. _She looks up at him._ Her eyes spend a long time searching his face, taking him in. Her lips begin to move, and she is obviously trying to say something. After an agonizing minute, she does.

"Jack?" she whispers, barely, but I can hear the disbelief in her voice. I see Jack's eyes go wide and he releases a shaky breath. He nods.

"Yeah, Audrey, it's me. I'm here." His voice is thick with emotion.

Audrey continues to stare at him, and then her mouth briefly lifts in the smallest of smiles.

"Jack," she repeats, her voice slightly stronger this time. And then she tries to raise her right hand, but she is too weak, and her hand drops back down after lifting only a couple inches. But the movement does not escape Jack. He takes her hand in his and lifts it, pressing her palm to his cheek, his hand covering hers. The instant her hand makes contact with his skin, Jack's head bends toward Audrey and his eyes close. When they open again, I can see they are bright with restrained tears.

Audrey is still looking up at him in wonderment, her eyes completely locked on him.

"Jack," she whispers for a third time, and in her voice I hear everything I don't want to hear. They are both in a world I have no hope of entering, and it's such an…intimate moment, that I have no choice but to walk out into the hallway.

I lean against the wall and close my eyes and once again curse the day Jack Bauer entered my life and my daughter's life.

Goddamn him.

* * *

I'm not sure how long I stand out in the hallway, but I look up when Jack walks out of the room. He looks at me, but I can't read his expression. I've always thought I was good at reading people, but Jack's face betrays nothing and he's holding himself still. The only discernable movement is in his right hand, where his thumb is rubbing against his other fingers. Has he always done that? Or is it an unconscious reaction to whatever torture was responsible for putting the scarring on the back of his hand?

He stares at me for a moment longer before he says, "She's asking for you."

_Oh my God._ Something lifts in me, and I have the insane urge to shout with joy. But instead, I match Jack's general demeanor and simply nod at him.

"Thank you," I say. He nods back and steps out of the doorway. I move by him, and as I enter the room, I note he does not follow me. It's at that moment that I remember he's a father himself, and I am forced to acknowledge that he might understand what this means to me.

But all thoughts of Jack leave me when I enter the room. My daughter's eyes are open, and when I walk up to her, she turns her head in my direction and her eyes meet mine. For the first time in months, her beautiful blue eyes are focused on mine and she's smiling at me. _She's smiling. _

"Hi, Dad," she whispers.

Something wells up in my throat and I have to swallow hard. The tears start falling uncontrollably down my face and I sink onto the bed next to her. I reach out to smooth her hair back, touch her face, before gathering her hands in mine.

"Hi, Audie," I manage to choke out before a sob escapes me.

"Don't cry," Audrey murmurs, her fingers rubbing against my hands. "It's okay."

I shake my head. "I'm sorry. I've been so worried. You've been gone for a long time, sweetheart."

"I was just tired," she says, and I see the hint of a familiar look in her eye. She's teasing me.

I chuckle then, relief and happiness at war in me as to which is the dominant emotion. "Yeah," I nod, "I know."

As I gather myself together, removing one hand from hers to wipe the tears away, my daughter looks up at me.

"Thank you," she says, her voice still impossibly weak.

I smile at her. "For what? You did all the hard work."

She shakes her head. "Not true," she says and her eyes flick briefly toward the door, outside which I assume Jack is still standing, "So did you."

Tears come to my eyes again, but this time for an entirely different reason. I cannot answer her, I cannot have this conversation with her right now. It will have to wait until later, until she's strong enough to understand why I can't let him stay.

For now, I only nod and squeeze her hand, and wait until she falls asleep again. Her eyes falling shut doesn't scare me now; I know she'll wake up again.

* * *

Audrey has been making remarkable progress. Each day since she woke up, she's been awake a little longer. She's gotten strong enough that she's been sitting up in bed, talking. Color is still missing from her skin, and she's still pretty thin, but she's alert and smiling, and her doctors say that those are all very good signs.

I'm getting to know my daughter all over again. I've taken to spending several hours with her every day. Sometimes we sit in companionable silence. Sometimes I bring up the morning newspaper and read to her. Watching TV or reading for any length of time still gives her a headache, so I try to update her on what's going on in the world. I tried at first to shield her from it, arguing that what was going on in the world wasn't really important, but after two days she made it clear she'd had quite enough of my protectiveness and told me that if I didn't bring up the paper and start reading, she was going to switch political parties and start campaigning for the opposition. I shook my head, grinned, and brought up the paper.

But my favorite moments are in the evenings after Amanda has gone home for the night. I bring Audrey her tea and settle myself in the chair next to her, with my feet kicked up on her bed. And we talk. About everything and nothing. We discuss what I read to her that morning, or we go off on tangents about the past. I would talk to her about just about anything, it's so wonderful to see her animated and speaking again.

Of course, there is the white elephant in the room that we avoid. I do not ask her about China and she does not offer any information. I don't know if she doesn't remember or if she just doesn't want to talk about it. Or perhaps she doesn't want to talk about it to_ me_. And I'm forced to conclude once again I may need someone else's help.

* * *

Jack has still been stopping by the house on a regular basis. Each time he comes, I think to myself that it's time for his visits to end. Audrey's getting better and better, and his presence is no longer needed. But each time, I cannot seem to have the conversation with him. Or with Audrey. And now I'm faced with the prospect of needing his help again.

I'm in her room when he arrives this evening. Audrey and I are laughing about her and Richie's antics as teenagers, and I've just learned that there was a lot I didn't know about my children's whereabouts half the time, and that it was probably better that way. I ask her if it's too late to ground her, and she makes a face at me. I laugh.

She's about to say something else, but suddenly she cocks her head in the direction of the door, and I know what's coming. Or rather, who. She always hears him before I do.

When Jack walks into the room, I watch the change in my daughter, the same change I've observed on several occasions now. Each time, it's harder to take.

It's not a big, exuberant reaction, the way I might have expected. If anything, she becomes quiet. It should worry me, the way she goes from chatting and laughing with me to the stillness that comes over her when she catches sight of him. But as her eyes find his, her entire body relaxes. A few minutes ago, I wouldn't have said she was anxious in any way, but I can see the tension leave her shoulders, her arms. I don't know if she's even conscious of it. And then he's walking towards her, and she's already turning her hand over so his can slide into her grasp.

He smiles at her, a rare expression for him.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hey," Audrey answers, returning his smile. Her fingers close around his, and there's a familiar knot taking up residence in the pit of my stomach. And it's one I have no idea how to unravel.

As he settles himself on the other side of the bed, Jack and I find ourselves on opposite sides of my daughter. Looking away from Audrey, he regards me with a guarded expression. I wonder if he wonders how long it's going to be before I make an issue of his continued visits. I wonder if he will make an issue of it when I do.

It will have to be soon, but not today. For now, I nod at him. "Jack."

He nods back. We've both learned to be civil in Audrey's presence. But Audrey's no fool, and she glances back and forth between us, trying to gauge our tension level. No doubt she realizes it's high, but I'm determined not going to stress her recovery. If it means keeping an uneasy peace with the man I invited into my house against my better judgment, so be it.

I stand up. Leaning over to kiss her cheek, I tell Audrey, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Audrey nods, but her attention is already turned away from me, and as I walk downstairs, I wonder if I ever truly had it.

* * *

I'm waiting for him by the door when he comes down the stairs. His step slows when he sees me, but he comes down the rest of the way to stand next to me.

"Jack, we need to talk," I tell him.

He crosses his arms, and his expression says he thinks he knows what's coming. I hold up my hands, hopefully indicating peace for the moment.

"I'm worried about Audrey," I begin, counting on the fact that concern for Audrey will trump Jack's distrust of me for the moment. When I have his attention, I motion him into the living room and away from the staircase where Audrey might hear us. Jack follows me and when we stop, I clear my throat.

"I'll get right to the point. Has Audrey spoken to you about China?"

Jack's expression changes to confusion for a moment as he realizes that this is not the conversation he thought we were going to have.

"No, she hasn't," he replies carefully.

I nod. "That's what troubles me. She hasn't talked to me either. Or Dr. Jensen. And I think she needs to talk to someone. It's not healthy for her to keep it inside."

Jack shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Is there something you're asking me?"

I look at him carefully and at last nod. "I'd like you to try to talk to her, Jack."

He gives me a long measuring look.

"I was under the impression you wanted me out of Audrey's life as soon as possible, as soon as it was clear she was better."

"That's true. And that hasn't changed, Jack. Audrey cannot survive with you in her life. She won't be safe. We both know that. But I'm asking you this one last thing before it's time for you to go."

There's an expression on Jack's face I can't read as he processes what I've just said.

"You talk to her as much as I do," he answers. "More. Why don't _you_ approach her about this?"

"Jack," I shake my head. "You've…Well, you've has a similar experience. You know where she's been."

Before he can cover it, I see the immediate pain in his eyes that says he knows only too well. But a second later, the mask he's perfected over the years is back in place and he's looking at me coolly.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to help you again, and then you want me to get the hell out."

"I want you to help Audrey," I reply.

A bitter smile forms on his lips. "I'm awfully useful when you want me to be, aren't I?"

This is going nowhere, and I don't have time for it. "Listen, Jack, if you won't–"

"Of course I'll help. You know I will. You know my desire for the chance to spend more time with Audrey, however short, will outweigh how much I detest doing anything that helps _you_. And once I do, you'll simply pretend like I never existed. Again."

I glare at him, not because what he's saying isn't true, but because it is. And he's forcing me to acknowledge it.

"You'll be helping Audrey," I insist, refusing to let him bait me.

Jack's lips curl in another unamused smile.

"Right," he says.

"I won't apologize for anything I do that helps my daughter, Jack," I tell him, for some reason feeling the need to justify myself in the face of his contempt.

"No, I don't imagine you would," he replies.

"Who the hell do you think–" I start angrily before I stop myself short and take a long breath. "So you'll talk to her," I confirm, refusing to get into an argument with him for the second time.

"Yeah," he says, with a shake of his head, already turning toward the door as if he's dismissing me even though I'm the one who initiated the conversation.

"And then that's that, Jack," I say to his retreating back. I can't let him think he has the upper hand in this situation. Defining boundaries is very important with Jack Bauer; that much I've learned.

My words stop him short. He turns back to face me, but instead of the anger I expect to see on his face, I see what I would almost describe as a thoughtful expression.

"What are you going to do," he asks, "When this doesn't turn out the way you planned?"

His question shocks me to say the least and I'm instantly on alert.

"Are you threatening me, Jack?" I ask, finally letting my anger slip into my voice. But Jack does not match my demeanor. In fact, he looks relaxed.

"Threatening you? No. It would be very clear if I were threatening you. I'm merely posing a question."

And before I can come up with an answer, he's walking out of the room and in a few seconds the front door opens and closes. I stare at the spot where he was just standing before sinking into a chair, painfully aware of the fact that Jack said "when" and not "if."

* * *

I'm well aware that I spend a good amount of time outside of Audrey's room. I try to rationalize it by convincing myself I really do need to go by that many times back and forth to my own room, but someone not as close to the situation might call it pacing.

In the beginning, it was to check if by some miracle, there was a change in her condition, to see if there was any sign of her getting better, however small. But when she finally woke up, and her condition improved, I continued the habit, and eventually there was no denying my continued passes by her door directly coincided with Jack's visits.

I can't seem to help myself. The same paternal instinct that caused me to bring him back into her life on the chance he could help her now drives me to make sure that he doesn't do anything outside the lines that I've drawn. Particularly given our recent conversation. It's not likely he'll pull anything at the moment, but still….I've known Jack Bauer to make decisions and take actions that most people would claim only happen in the movies. And they'd be right. Except they've never met Jack.

Today is no different. I'm downstairs in my office when I realize I've left a folder upstairs in my room, and though I probably don't need it for some time, I get up to retrieve it. After all, it's a legitimate reason to walk down the hall, and if I happen to glance into Audrey's room on the way by, it's not as if she can fault me for it.

Usually when I walk by, Audrey and Jack are talking quietly, or Jack is simply sitting by the bed, watching over her as she sleeps. While it causes no small stress in me, I am also used to seeing it by now, and have grudgingly accepted it as a necessary evil for the moment.

However, this time when I reach the hallway and hear Audrey's voice, I immediately detect a change. It does not have the tone of normal conversation, but rather is anxious and laced with fear. My first instinct is that Jack has done something, and I hurry to the door, which is standing ajar. But before I push my way in, the scene that greets me stops me short.

Jack is sitting on the bed next to Audrey, and Audrey has her head bowed, one hand clutching one of his, the other fisted around a tissue, which already looks well-used. And she's speaking in a voice little more than a whisper.

"I looked everywhere for you. Anywhere I could think of. Bill was helping me as much as he could, and Chloe…God, Chloe got me farther than I should have gone. Obviously. But I couldn't stop. I–"

"Audrey," Jack tries to get her attention, dipping his head to catch her eye. She looks up at him, but shakes her head.

"I couldn't stop," she insists. "Not after everything you –. Not after everything. But then they caught up with me. I had no …no idea what to do. And, Jack, there were so many of them, and I couldn't get away, and then it was dark, and I was so cold…all of the time…" It's as far as she gets before sobs are wracking her frame, and she's dropping her head against Jack's shoulder.

Jack's face is clenched in pain as Audrey's hand lets go of his in favor of twisting his shirt between her fingers. He hesitates a moment, and then almost against his will, slowly puts his arms around her. A few seconds later, the hesitancy disappears, and he's got his arms securely around my daughter as she shifts more fully into his arms, and her sobs become muffled as she turns her face into the material of his shirt.

I find myself once again wanting to move, wanting to tear this man away from my daughter, even as I recognize he's only doing what I asked him to do. She's finally talking about her horrific experience, and she's finally letting out everything she's kept tightly inside of her.

And so I find that once again, I cannot move.

It is at this point that Jack lifts his eyes, and looks directly at me. I jerk my head, surprised, until I realize that I shouldn't be. I should have known he knew I was standing here the entire time. There is not much that gets by the man.

He and I stare at each other for several long moments, measuring each other, trying to gauge what the other is thinking. But even if I wanted to somehow convey gratitude for at least this, I cannot bring myself to do it, and his expression does not give me anything new beyond the hostility with which I'm already well acquainted.

In the end, I simply nod once and close the door.

* * *

When I walk into the house, I am struck at once by the voices. I've become so accustomed to the quiet of the house that it's jarring to hear noise when I walk through the door. It's Audrey's voice and then Jack's, but I know that's impossible because they're coming from the living room.

"Hello?" I call.

The voices fall silent. Confused as hell, I walk quickly toward the living, wondering if perhaps I'm losing my mind. When I enter the room, I am not at all prepared for what I see.

Audrey is sitting on the couch in the living room, with a blanket thrown over her lap. She's dressed, and looks like she's showered, and there is a faint color to her cheeks. She's holding a mug of what looks like tea, and she's beaming at me.

I gape at her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack is sitting in the arm chair next to the couch, eying me. He is sitting back, giving every appearance of looking relaxed, but I can tell he's ready for any reaction I might have.

I glance back and forth between the two of them.

"Audrey!" I exclaim, finding my voice. "What are you doing down here?"

Audrey's grin widens.

"Isn't it great? When I woke up, I was feeling so good today. So when Amanda got here, I asked her to help me with a shower, and I cannot tell you how good it feels to have actual clothes on, even if it's only sweats."

Audrey's enthusiasm is infectious.

"That's wonderful, honey," I say, walking forward so I can bend down and kiss her forehead. "But I don't want you to overdo it."

Audrey rolls her eyes at me.

"Dad, I don't think we're in any danger of that."

I nod, but I also know Audrey's still very weak, and she could not have gotten down the stairs by herself.

"How did you get down here, Audrey?"

Audrey takes a deep breath and glances at Jack, enough to catch his eye. There's something in the way she looks at him that triggers a faint nagging at the back of my mind, but before I can identify it, Audrey looks back at me and speaks.

"Jack helped me."

"I see." I turn toward Jack, who so far has been silent. I try to stay calm, but I know there's an edge to my voice.

"Jack, you know she's not strong enough."

Jack leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He's still giving every indication he's relaxed, but he suddenly reminds me of nothing so much as a crouched lion.

"Audrey wanted to get out of the room. It was her decision, I simply helped her."

His tone is even, but his eyes are saying something else entirely. _Start something. I'm begging you._

And I'd be more than happy to comply, but my daughter's voice pulls my gaze away from Jack.

"Excuse me," she says, irritation evident in her voice, "Audrey is right here, and does not appreciate you speaking about her as if she's not. Either of you." And here she quickly flips her eyes to Jack, who seems to be vacillating between wanting to confront me and letting her continue. He narrows his eyes at her in an expression I can't quite understand, as if they're in the middle of some other argument I'm not aware of, before leaning back in his chair again. Audrey holds his eyes for another few seconds, and again I'm struck with the same odd feeling as a few minutes ago, but then Audrey turns her attention back to me and the feeling's forgotten.

"Dad, I was going crazy in that room. If I had to be in there another minute, I was going to scream. I had to get out. And how do you expect me to get any stronger if I don't move?"

"Audrey," I begin, trying not to sound like an overbearing parent and failing miserably. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Again." The comment is out before I have time to censor it, and I can see Jack stiffen in my periphery vision. _That's right, Jack, I haven't forgotten. And don't you forget it either._ But before either of them can react, I continue. "I worry about you. That's what dads do. But if you're feeling up to it, we'll find a great physical therapist and we'll start working on your strength. The right way."

Audrey considers my words and nods.

"Okay. Thank you. But it was really no big deal getting down here, so I don't want you to worry. We managed."

I press my lips together at the word "we," looking once again at Jack before looking back at Audrey.

"It's my job, Audie. I have to worry." I tell her. But all I get is a look from her and I sigh. "Okay, you win. For now. I'm going to see about dinner."

Audrey nods, and as I turn away, her gaze has already twisted to the man at her right, and there's an enigmatic smile forming on her lips, and I have the distinct feeling I've missed something very important.

* * *

I have to go out of town for business for a few days. I've tried to postpone it, or better yet, get out of it entirely, but it's become unavoidable. The request has come personally from the president's office, and I'm not in the habit of refusing him. But that means leaving Audrey while I make my way across country. It means leaving her with Jack.

Audrey is in the living room, reading, when I find her. She's down here more and more these days. I hired a top physical therapist for her, and with her help, Audrey is slowly building muscle again, and her legs are getting stronger. She still can't get down the stairs by herself, but with a little help, she manages.

I try to offer my help as much as possible, and sometimes she accepts. But she mostly shoos me away, claiming she doesn't want her aged father getting himself hurt helping her. She says it in jest, and I know she's just teasing me, but I can't help but notice that those times correspond with the days Jack visits. She tries to cover it with concern for me, or perhaps she thinks I haven't guessed the truth, but it's obvious she's waiting for him.

The first time he helped her down the stairs, I stood guard in the hallway in case I was needed, as they made their way down painfully slowly. Halfway, the effort became too much for her, but before I could move forward, I watched Jack lift her easily into his arms. Her arms immediately went around his neck and she sighed softly as he carried her down the rest of the way. I know my daughter well enough to know she would never have accepted any help like that from anyone else. No matter how tired, she would have insisted on getting down all the way by herself. But with him, there was no protest, and I now understood how she got downstairs on that first day. My stomach dropped inexplicably, and I leaned against the wall with sudden dizziness.

Now, she can make it down all the way on her own two legs, though she still needs some moderate assistance, and Jack is still right beside her, his arm twined securely around her waist, her arm around his shoulder.

It was only this morning that I noticed that she was moving around steadily upstairs, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was now capable of walking down the stairs by herself. Yet she did not make any attempt. She waited. And then I saw my daughter's undivided attention shift once again to the man who appeared in her doorway, and who fitted himself against her smaller frame as they made their way toward the staircase. I clenched my teeth.

Jack is gone, for the moment. After helping Audrey to the living room, he only stayed briefly before excusing himself, saying he'd be back tomorrow. As Jack left, Audrey's physical therapist showed up, and I left the two of them alone to work, retreating to my office to catch up on work.

When I finally think to look at the clock, I realize hours have passed, and I make my way out to find Audrey.

She looks up from her book when I enter the room, and smiles.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hi," I smile back, her light mood infectious. "How was your session with Dr. O'Loughlin?"

"Good. She gave me some new exercises. She says I'm doing better than she expected. I feel great."

I nod. "That's wonderful to hear, Audie. Really great." I take a breath, and continue. "Listen, I need to talk to you about something."

Immediately, I see her expression turn guarded.

"What is it?" she asks cautiously.

I sit down on the ottoman next to the couch.

"I have to go out of town in the morning for a few days. The president's asking for me."

She relaxes, and for a second I think I see a smile quirk the edge of her lips. But her expression turns serious before I can be sure.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

"Oh, yes, fine. But I'll be gone for most of the week, and I'm worried about you."

Now she definitely smiles, and rolls her eyes in amusement.

"Dad, I'll be fine. Didn't you hear me just now? I'm getting stronger. I don't need someone looking after me twenty-four hours a day."

"Yes, but –"

"And it's not as if you're leaving me to the wolves. Amanda's still stopping by. And so is Dr. O'Loughlin. Robin's here most days too." She pauses. "And so is Jack."

I glance at her sharply. "That's not comforting, Audrey," I say. "In fact, that's exactly what worries me."

Audrey sighs, sets her book aside, and sits up straight.

"I wish it wouldn't," she says, taking my hand.

"It terrifies me," I admit quietly, my eyes dropping to my hand in hers.

"I know," she says, sadness etched in her voice.

I look up at her, at the concern in her eyes, and think that this may be the right time to broach the subject. "Audrey, when I asked him to come here, to help you, it was never my intention for him to–"

But she's already shaking her head.

"Dad, we're not having this conversation right now. I can't. Please, not now."

I squeeze her hand. "Audrey, Jack's not–" I try again. But she's already pulling her hand away from mine.

"Not now," she says, more emphatically.

I search her eyes and then nod. "Okay," I give in, "Not now. But we're going to have to have this conversation soon."

I see Audrey's jaw clench and she looks away from me.

"Yeah," she answers.

I stand up. "Audrey, I just want what's best for you."

She glances up at me, and looks like she's about to say something, but then she swallows and nods.

"I know," she replies. She reaches for her book. "You'd better go pack if you're leaving in the morning," she says, with what sounds like forced lightness. "I know how long it takes you."

I nod in return, not entirely sure where that leaves us. "You're right. I'll be back down a little later to make us some dinner. Robin's got the night off."

Audrey smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and nods again, already seemingly absorbed in her book once more. But when I glance back into the room on my way up the stairs, she's got her knees tucked up to her chest and she's staring out the widow toward the water, her hand pressed against her mouth. I make my way slowly up the rest of the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

When I return after a week, there's a noticeable change in Audrey. The first indication is when she hears me call a greeting as I walk through the front door, and she walks to the top of the stairs. Then, by herself, she cautiously makes her way down. She's grinning, and by the time she gets to me, so am I, before I sweep her up in a hug.

"Audrey, I'm so proud of you!" I exclaim, releasing her to hold her at arm's length. "Have I only been gone a week? You've been busy!"

She nods happily. "I think I've been driving Dr. O'Loughlin crazy, but it's been worth it. I've been so tired of being dependent on everyone. I can actually get myself a drink now if I'm thirsty!"

Unexpected tears come to my eyes, and she sees them and laughs gently.

"Dad, tears are for sadness," she chides, wiping at my eyes. "There's nothing sad here today. Come on, Robin left us some dinner in the oven. Let's go eat." She flashes another grin, and turns, walking carefully, but confidently, toward the kitchen.

I follow her in the kitchen and sit down at the table after she refuses my help with getting dinner on the table. She flicks on the radio on the counter, and begins to hum absently along with the tune. As she moves around the kitchen, I note the change in her demeanor, the flash in her eye, and the smile that sometimes breaks out across her face almost before she realizes it. When that happens, she casts a quick glance at me, and if I haven't succeeded in looking away in time, the smile widens as if it was meant for me all along, and then she hums a little louder.

It's not behavior I'm used to seeing from my daughter, but soon we're sitting at the table, and we're chatting, and I simply chalk up her enthusiasm to her new-found mobility. I tell her about my week in Washington, and she peppers me with questions, a sure sign her analytical skills are also on the mend. Before long, she has several suggestions for me, and I have no choice but to agree with her because they're _good_, and they're exactly the kind of suggestions the president's cabinet will be looking for.

She in turn tells me about her week, and her sessions with her physical therapist, and assures me that Amanda has cleared her for the more intense work-outs.

"And Robin didn't let me starve either," she says, indulging me, pointing at the food in front of us. "See?"

I hold up my hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't need someone here, looking out for you every moment anymore. I get it."

She nods, satisfied, and gets up to start clearing the table. "Good, I'm glad we agree on that. Finally."

It has not escaped me that during the whole meal she has not mentioned Jack's name once, and I certainly don't want to start something after the perfectly pleasant time we've just had, but I can't seem to let sleeping dogs lie.

"And Jack?" I ask, as casually as possible. "Was he around?"

Audrey's back is toward me, so I don't see her first reaction. But when she turns, her expression is neutral.

"A few times," she answers, her tone matching mine. "He's been busy. Why?"

I shrug, trying to keep up my pretence of indifference. "No reason. I just thought that…with my being gone…." I struggle, unable to finish my sentence, and I wave my hand vaguely.

Audrey looks at me, hand on her hip.

"You thought that since you were gone, I'd sneak a guy you hate right through the front door. Well, don't worry, Dad," she continues, slight annoyance in her voice as she turns to the sink to start soaking the dishes, "I haven't done that since I was sixteen."

When she turns back around, she takes one look at what I'm sure is my stricken expression, and bursts out laughing.

"Dad, I'm _kidding_. Relax," she walks over and gives me a hug, and pats me on the cheek as I give her a weak smile. "I was _at least_ eighteen." She winks at me as I work to find my voice.

"Audrey!"

"Dad, really, you make it too easy." She chortles again, shaking her head. "Can you grab the ice cream?" she adds, effectively changing the subject. I realize there are no more openings for questions (that I may not want the answers to anyway), and I'm left wondering exactly how many "a few times" constitute.

Audrey takes the rest of our dishes and heads for the sink, and I walk toward the freezer to grab the ice cream she has directed me to. I shake my head in amusement as I reach to grab the Ben and Jerry's _Phish Food_, my daughter's one indulgence in the strict diet she keeps herself on. By the feel of the container, a few helpings have already been consumed, and I'm turning, just about to tease her about it, when a figure walks into the kitchen. I'm behind the doorway, so it's possible he hasn't seen me yet. For a second, I'm terrified it's an intruder, and I'm about to yell a warning to Audrey, when I realize it's Jack, sliding silently into my house and into my kitchen in that infuriating manner of his.

Goddamn him.

Recovering from my shock, I watch as Audrey turns from the sink and finds Jack feet away from her. She does not startle or jump or seem surprised by his sudden appearance. But as he steps forward, looking ready to say something to her, she tenses and narrows her eyes at him. That stops him short, but he somehow still pivots smoothly on the ball of his foot until he's facing me.

"Mr. Secretary," he says formally, looking me in the eye, "Welcome home."

I glance between the two of them. I'm sure I've missed something vital again, and I'm getting very tired of the feeling. I pride myself on being a good judge of non-verbal communication, something that has helped me tremendously in the political world, and it's no small frustration that I can't read what's going on between my own daughter and Jack Bauer.

What happened in the last week? Is Audrey's reaction to him something to be concerned about? Did they argue? Did he hurt her in any way? Because if he did, so help me God….

My eyes settle back on Jack.

"Thank you," I answer, my voice clipped. "It's a little late for a visit though, isn't it, Jack? Audrey and I were just about to have some dessert." I lift the ice cream pint in my hand, pointedly not extending an invitation. I hear Audrey sigh, but Jack only looks amused.

"No, thanks," he says as if I invited him anyway, "I'm trying to cut back on ice cream. I just came over to see if Audrey was settled for the night. I wasn't sure if you were home yet."

"You could have used the phone, Jack," I remind him.

He nods as if seriously considering my suggestion.

"You can never be too careful," he says finally. "But since you're home, I'll be going."

_You'd damn well better be going. In fact, it's time you start thinking about going for good._

He glances back at Audrey, and nods, and then turns to leave without so much as a backward glance at me.

It takes a second before my legs start working, but then I'm setting the ice cream on the table and headed after him.

"Be right back," I say by way of explanation to Audrey on my past her, ignoring her surprised expression.

"Dad!" she calls after me, but I'm not stopping. I yank open the front door and catch up to Jack half way down the front walk.

"Jack," I say firmly, and he stops, quickly turning to face me. Fueled by the anger that's been building in me for months, I stride right up to him, into his personal space. He does not step back, but rather squares his shoulders to me as I say in a tone that does little to hide my emotions, "I don't know what the hell is going on here, or what you've done to my daughter, but it's time for your visits to stop. Audrey is much better, and maybe that's in part because of you, and I thank you, but she doesn't need you anymore. I can take it from here."

Jack's voice, when he responds, is hard.

"What is it you think I've done to Audrey?" he asks, and if I had to guess, he almost sounds insulted.

"I have no idea. Maybe convinced her she needs you around. Maybe convinced her she needs you to recover completely. Or maybe that she needs you after she recovers. Well, she doesn't, and I need to make sure she understands that she doesn't."

A short bark that might have passed as a laugh escapes him.

"Have you met your daughter, Mr. Secretary? She's stubborn as hell. She doesn't do _anything _she doesn't want to do. So if you think I've convinced her of something, you have more faith in my powers of persuasion than I do. At least when I'm not holding a gun." He smirks, almost to himself.

I look at him incredulously. "Is that supposed to be a fucking joke?" I ask him. He looks back at me, but the smirk doesn't disappear.

"No."

My fists clench, which is rapidly becoming my normal reaction to Jack Bauer.

"Because it isn't funny. If you ever so much as_ think_ about pointing a gun at my daughter, there is no government in this world that will keep me from hunting you down and killing you myself."

Jack finally moves, leaning in close to me.

"No," he says, his voice low and harsh, "It's not funny. Nothing about this game you're playing with me is funny. So what is it this time? Do you need something else from me? Do you need me to find someone else from Audrey's past so she can relive the pain? Do you need me to delve more into Audrey's time in China so I can watch her fall apart again? Or maybe you just need me to pick up your fucking groceries. What is it?"

I glare at him, no longer hiding any of my anger or blatant disdain.

"I need you to leave, Jack. This is over. There's nothing here for you anymore. No one."

Jack's lips curl, his eyes narrow, and he leans back.

"I'm not leaving until Audrey asks me to," he states.

"Excuse me?" I ask, not believing what I just heard. "That's not what we discussed. That wasn't the deal, Jack."

If he wants to make an issue of this, I'm willing to stand here all night. But Jack's already moving away from me, melting into the darkness he embraces so readily.

"Yeah, well," he tosses over his shoulder just before he's no longer visible, "The deal just changed."

As his last words reach me, I'm left standing peering into the shadows, and there's a distinct bitterness burning at the back of my throat.

* * *

Richie is here at the house today, visiting with his sister. He's been here a few times, mostly when she was still non-responsive.

Richie and I have been working on our relationship in the last couple years. The day of Audrey's and my kidnapping really changed him. Though he and I still have wildly different viewpoints, and I disagree with a lot of what he seems so passionate about, I can see he's also grown up. He has a job he's good at and that he really seems to enjoy. And he's been seeing someone now for several months.

He tells me that it's okay to call Scott his boyfriend, because that's what he is, and I'm trying to get used to that idea. Finding out my son was gay was a shock, and I know I didn't react very well at first. But Richie is my son, and I love him, so I've been making an effort. And the truth is, I like Scott and I see that he's a positive influence on Richie. My son and I are on a learning curve, and there are days when it's steeper than others. But at least we're on it.

I'm sitting on the patio, enjoying the warm evening, when Richie steps out of the double doors. I look up.

"Audrey looks great, Dad," he says, coming to stand next to me, looking out toward the water. "I was worried that she was never…" he trails off, I assume to not give voice to his fear.

"I was, too," I admit to him. "She was so lost, I wasn't sure she was ever going to find her way back to us."

Richie nods, but presses his lips together and I can see something in his eyes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking…" he hesitates, looking down at me. I look back at him curiously and he sighs. "I was just thinking that I'm not sure she came back for _us._"

I furrow my eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" I ask, though it's mostly a rhetorical question. I'm pretty sure I can guess what Richie is getting at.

"Dad," he says, in that tone that children use when they're "handling" their parents. "That guy, Jack–"

"He's not staying," I cut him off. "He's only here until I'm sure she's going to be okay." I wonder if I say it enough times, it will be true. If I can somehow simply will away my last conversation with Jack, then everything would still be going the way I planned.

Richie shakes his head, a disbelieving smile on his face.

"I don't think you get to make that decision, Dad."

I stand up to make the point quite clear, and my confidence amazes even me. "He knows that's the deal. I asked him to help, and when it's time, I'll ask him to go." _Except, of course, I did, and instead of leaving he simply changed the deal. As if our previous agreement never existed._

I must be doing a good job of hiding my heightening anxiety, because Ritchie does not seem to notice, and continues, "Audrey looks fine, Dad, so why haven't you asked him to leave yet?"

"Soon," I insist, not willing to admit to my current problem. "I just want to make sure she's really okay."

"Dad," Richie says, more sharply. "He's good for her."

I look at him incredulously.

"You know that's not true. He did this. He's the reason she's in this situation in the first place. There's nothing good about him. And all he'll do is hurt your sister again if he stays."

Richie sighs. "She went to China because she loved him. You can't fault that. Or fault him for it. Trust me, Dad, you don't always get to choose who you love."

That catches my attention.

"Richie, what the hell are you saying? You think she's still in love with him?"

Richie cocks his head at me. "You're around them a lot more than I am."

I shake my head vehemently.

"Absolutely not. Maybe once, but not now. He's only still here because, well, it's a…complicated situation. I don't want to upset Audrey. But, Richie, your sister is better off without him. And believe me, I wish I had never had to contact him."

Richie sighs again. "Dad, he makes her smile."

I stare at him, not knowing what to say. My son seems to have that effect on me, more than most people. He'll say things to which I don't have a good, solid answer. His mother was like that, she could stop our disagreements in their tracks. It used to make me crazy, though I'm not sure if it was because I couldn't continue arguing, or because I knew she was right. And our son seems to have inherited that talent.

I cross my arms and settle on an irritated look. Richie sees it, smiles slightly.

"I gotta go. Scott's waiting."

I nod, and step forward to give him a hug, relieved he's not going to make me continue this conversation.

"I'll see you later, son. Say hi to Scott."

At that, Richie grins.

"He won't believe me," he says, but his tone is teasing.

I smile in return. "Give your old dad some credit. I'm trying."

"I know you are. I appreciate it. And think about what I said," he adds meaningfully.

I take a deep breath and let it out. The best I can do is tilt my head in acknowledgement at him.

Richie shakes his head and claps me on the shoulder.

"Bye, Dad."

I watch my son round the corner of sight before I turn toward the house. As I let myself in through the patio doors, I wonder if this is what it means to get old. The young seem to have little problem reconciling the past and the present.

* * *

I have to talk to Audrey. I've been ignoring it, avoiding it, and hoping in general that if I do nothing, Jack will do the right thing and stick to the original agreement we had. But that is clearly not going to happen. He continues to show up with now-frightening regularity, and if I don't do something soon, he's going to become a permanent fixture in my house. So I am going to have to talk to my daughter if I want Jack to leave. And I do want Jack to leave. It's the only way Audrey can get on with her life.

It's early afternoon, which means Audrey is upstairs, taking a nap. For all the progress she's made, she still tires easily and gets the occasional headache, and it's not uncommon for her to take several naps a day.

I'm downstairs trying to gather what I want to say into some kind of coherent order while treading the fine line of not upsetting Audrey when I hear her footsteps upstairs. I take a deep breath and am surprised to find that my stomach feels slightly queasy.

_Jim, take it easy,_ I tell myself. _You've given speeches to heads of state, and advised the President on whether or not to bomb countries. You can talk to your daughter_.

_Yes, but those other people actually _wanted _to hear what you had to say_, another voice counters.

I shake my head to clear it of unhelpful thoughts and take another lungful of air. Satisfied I'm ready, I head up the stairs, down the hall, and knock on Audrey's door.

"Yeah?" I hear her call.

"Audie, it's me. Is it okay if I come in?"

"Of course, Dad."

I turn the knob of the door and walk in, and find Audrey sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking expectantly in my direction.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," I reply, walking toward her. "What are you doing?"

She shrugs. "Just woke up. I was thinking about maybe grabbing my book and going downstairs."

I nod, and as I walk toward her, I look for a place to sit. I consider sitting next to her, but I finally settle on the chair by her bed, left over from the vigil kept next to her all those weeks. I must look uncomfortable because now Audrey is looking at me with some concern.

"Dad, are you okay? You look a little…pale."

I try to smile at her, but I don't think it comes off very well.

"I'm fine, Audrey. But I…I need to talk to you." I see her suck in a quick breath, but I continue. "About Jack."

I see Audrey tense, and she's immediately shaking her head. A second later, she's unfolding her legs over the side of the bed, ready to walk away from me, and I have to reach out to grab her arm.

"Audrey, please. It's time."

She whips her head around, glaring.

"Time for what?" she asks, and I'm taken aback by the amount of anger in her voice. I let go of her arm.

"Please," I say again. "Will you sit down and let me talk?"

She glares at me for a few more seconds, and then grudgingly settles back into her previous position.

"Thank you," I say, and then I take a moment to steady myself, looking down at my hands. "Audie, when the Chinese returned you to me, I almost didn't believe it. You have to understand, I thought you were dead. And after so many months, I'd started to…well, I'd started to finally accept that. But then there you were, in front of me again. Alive." I look up at my daughter, and she's looking back at me, the flash of anger from before seeming to have dissipated. "Except, sweetheart, it wasn't you. Not really. You wouldn't talk, you'd barely look at anyone, and every time anyone tried to touch you, you'd flinch like it was going to bring you pain. It broke my heart. And it just kept getting worse. It seemed like you'd given up. You slept more and more, you barely opened your…eyes…" I trail off, my voice catching as I remember how helpless I felt during those days.

Audrey now reaches for my hand, and I can see tears in her eyes. "Dad…" she starts, but I shake my head.

"No, I'm okay. Let me finish." I squeeze her hand to reassure her. "By the time I contacted Dr. Jensen, you were barely opening your eyes every few days. Just about the only things you'd say were mumbled in your sleep, and I'm pretty sure only when you were having nightmares. But there was one thing you'd say that I could understand, and that was…Jack's name. I tried ignoring it, but Dr. Jensen kept after me, and, Audie, I didn't know what else to do. I would have done anything to bring you back to me. Anything. Even if it was something I hated.

"So…I went to get Jack. It was against my better judgment, but I went to get him. And…I can't say for sure if he helped. I don't know if it was him, or if you were finally ready to come back, or it was a combination of things. But, Audrey," I look her straight in the eye, "It was never my intention for him to stay permanently. If his presence meant that you would get better, then I was willing to tolerate it. But you're doing so much better now, sweetheart. It's time to change how things are."

Audrey frowns. "Dad–"

"I know you may think you need him. Maybe he's led you to believe that, I don't know."

"Dad–"

"But, sweetheart, you're not safe with Jack in your life. I think you know that. I know he's familiar at the moment, and–"

"Dad!"

Audrey's now glaring at me again, swiping angrily at the tears on her cheeks. I look back at her.

"First of all, you can stop talking to me like I'm a teenager and I'm dating the guy who's got tattoos and rides a Harley. Second of all, don't for one second think that he's convinced me of something, or, I don't know, brainwashed me. I may have been out of it for a while, but I certainly still know my own mind. Whatever I do, I do because it's what_ I_ want."

"Yes, but, Audrey–"

"Dad. Stop."

I take in her determined look as she continues.

"Look, I know how hard it was for you to go to him. I know it was the last thing you wanted to do, that you blame him for everything that happened to me. So I want to thank you for being strong enough to do that for me. It…" she looks like she's struggling to find the right word, but then shakes her head. "Helped. But that doesn't mean you get to decide when he leaves. It's not up to you."

"You're right," I tell her, leaning forward, trying to will her to see what should be so obvious. "It's up to you. And you must see that you're not safe if he stays in your life in any capacity, Audrey. I know it looks like things in his life are calm right now. But we both know that that won't last. Someone eventually will need him to do something that forces him to go beyond the law and to make ethically questionable decisions in order to hold off some impending disaster. That's what he does. And thank God we have people like him. But it also means that everyone around him will be in danger again. I don't want that to be you."

Audrey swings her legs over the bed, and this time I don't stop her as she stands up.

"Dad, I know exactly who Jack is. Don't think that I don't. But I'm not ready to walk away yet."

I stand up as well, as she tries to skirt around me and out the door.

"What the hell does that mean, Audrey? What exactly is going on between you and Jack?"

She turns on me, the anger on her face now very apparent. "Is that what you're worried about, Dad? That there's something going on between us? That I'm, oh, I don't know…sleeping with him? Or are you just pissed off that everyone's not following the plan you had mapped out in your head? That I'm making decisions you don't agree with?"

Audrey has just given voice to my greatest fear, to what has been eating away at me for months.

"_Are_ you sleeping with him?" I demand.

She stares at me for a second, maybe shocked I even asked.

"Unbelievable," she says finally, shaking her head and turning to walk out to door. I feel extremely off-balance.

"Audrey!" I call after her retreating form. She stops in the doorway, and looks back at me once more.

"Dad, enough. We're done. All you need to know is I'm not ready to walk away yet, and I have my reasons."

"Audrey, please, just think about what I said," I try.

But I'm only talking to myself; my daughter is already gone.

* * *

When I walk into the house after work, it's strangely empty. Not that there are ever a lot of people in it, or that there is a lot of chatter between those who are these days, but it's still quiet.

Audrey and I have reached an impasse regarding Jack and his continued presence. I've tried to bring it up a couple more times, but at worst, it becomes an argument, and at best, she deflects the topic into something else. Tired of fighting with her, I've let it go for now, but our relationship has suffered anyway. We've become very _polite_ with each other - we speak civilly, continue to share the house as if we are awkward roommates, and don't talk about the one thing we desperately need to resolve.

And Jack continues to visit my daughter. Perhaps what's most infuriating is that he's the model citizen when he does. He makes it a point to greet me, even if it is through gritted teeth, and he spends the time with Audrey as if he were no more than her good friend keeping her company – there are some days when they seem to barely even acknowledge each other, sitting in the same room, Audrey with her book or watching TV, her headaches now largely gone, and Jack with his laptop.

But today no one is in the living room, or anywhere else on the ground floor, it seems.

"Hello?" I call.

My housekeeper emerges from the kitchen.

"Oh, Mr. Heller, hello. I didn't hear you come in. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

I nod. "Thank you, Robin. Have you seen Audrey?"

She motions with her head in the direction of the glass doors that lead onto the patio.

"I think she's out there."

"Really?" I ask. It's surprising because Audrey has so far not wanted to go outside much. I think that she thinks she can't control the space around her if she doesn't have four walls.

Robin nods.

"She wanted to go out."

As Robin retreats back into the kitchen, I walk over to the glass doors and peek out, expecting to see Audrey curled up on one of the patio chairs, reading. But a quick scan of the patio tells me there's no one there, and I'm about to call out to Robin to ask if she's sure Audrey's outside, when my gaze drifts beyond the patio to the short fence separating the beach from our yard.

Audrey is standing there, leaning against the fence. Jack is beside her, and she's turned slightly toward him. It's a bright, beautiful late summer evening, and as the sun catches her hair, I suddenly notice how strong and healthy my daughter looks. Her eyes have lost their sunken look, and her hair has regained most of its shine. I can also see that the color has come back into her cheeks.

She's bent closer to Jack now, saying something, and he's leaning closer as well, nodding. He says something in reply, and Audrey throws her head back and laughs, a big, spontaneous sound that just reaches me even through the glass. Jack grins at her, and as I watch, he reaches out and touches her shoulder. His hand sweeps briefly under her hair before traveling down the length of her arm, landing on her hip. Audrey doesn't look surprised or pull away, and I can see Jack's hand move around to land on the small of her back as he continues to speak. She steps closer to him and smiles and touches his cheek, and he seems to lean into her hand.

A mixture of sadness and immediate anger hit me at the same time, and I'm left wondering how I didn't see it. Again. Even after everything I feared.

These are lovers' touches, and I have to turn away.

* * *

My suspicions are confirmed a week later when I come home early, after a meeting has been canceled. Audrey's car is gone from the garage, but that's not entirely unusual. If there are errands she needs done, she usually insists Robin take her car to do them. When I walk into the house, though, it is, once again, unusually quiet, and Robin is in the living room, dusting.

She looks up at me, clearly surprised.

"Mr. Heller," she says, an uneasy tone in her voice. Her eyes flick nervously, and she tries to cover it with a smile. "What brings you home so early?"

"Canceled meeting," I answer, already wary. "Where's Audrey?"

Robin looks like a deer caught in headlights. I continue to look at her.

"Robin, what's going on? Where's Audrey's car?"

Robin takes a deep breath. "Audrey's not here, sir."

My suspicion ratchets up a few more degrees. "Where is she, then? Outside?" I'm reaching because I know that doesn't explain the absence of her car.

Robin looks down at her feet before repeating, "She's not here. At all."

Her words take about five seconds to sink in.

"_What?_ Well, where the hell is she?"

"I –" Robin begins, but I take one look at her expression, and I already know.

"Goddamn it, never mind! No! Where the hell did he take her? Where are they?!"

Robin sucks in a deep breath as my voice rises with every sentence, but seems unwilling, or unable, to reply. I force myself to count to three before speaking again.

"Robin, please, where are they?"

Robin shakes her head. "She didn't say."

Now I know she's just unwilling to answer my question.

"Like hell she didn't. I know my daughter. She'd tell someone in case she needed to be reached. Robin, where. Are. They?"

Robin looks like she might try giving me the runaround again, but then she looks at me, and sighs. We've been together long enough that she knows I'm not going to let this go. She digs into her pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. She stares at it for a second, and then offers it to me.

I take it and unfold it. On the sheet, in Audrey's neat and precise handwriting, are an address and a phone number. The street name is one I recognize, only a few miles from here. I shut my eyes briefly at the implication of the information I'm holding, at what is my fault, at what I've unleashed.

Opening my eyes, I grab my keys, and I'm already half way out the door before I turn back to my stunned housekeeper, still staring at me.

"Don't even think of calling them," I say, before making my way rapidly to my car and gunning the engine.

* * *

The address turns out to belong to a small Bed and Breakfast a few miles down the road. It has a charming look to it, with a wraparound porch and a small garden off to the side, but right now I don't care if this house is the winning entry in _Better Homes and Gardens_. I see Audrey's car parked off to the side, Jack's right next to hers, and I'm not remotely interested in controlling my anger anymore. I let it course through me, permeate me, infuse my limbs. I yank my keys out of the ignition and storm up onto the porch.

The receptionist looks more than a little surprised when I barrel through the front door. His friendly smile dies on his lips as he takes in my expression and what I'm sure is my somewhat wild-looking state.

"May I help you, sir?" he asks uncertainly.

"Where are they? Where's my daughter?" I demand, striding right up to him. The young man takes an involuntary step back.

"Your daughter?"

I'm at once infuriated that I have to explain anything to this guy.

"Yeah, my daughter. I know she's here, her car's outside. Where is she?"

His initial surprise over, he now straightens himself and gives me a practiced professional look.

"Sir, please calm down. I don't know who your daughter is–"

"Listen," I interrupt him, glancing at his name tag, "Listen, Kevin, I realize you have a job to do, but so do I. I have to protect my daughter. And right now she's in a lot of danger. So you're going to tell me what room Audrey Raines and Jack Bauer are in. Right now."

I'm hoping that the voice I've used for years to intimidate government officials will be enough to convince Kevin that he needs to provide the requested information. But Kevin, as it turns out, takes his job more seriously than I would have suspected.

"I'm sorry, sir," he answers stiffly, "But we are not at liberty to reveal the identity of our guests nor give out their room numbers. Now, I'm sure that if you call your daughter, all this can be straightened out, and–"

I don't have time for this idiot. Turning from him, I notice the staircase leading upward, and before Kevin can stop me, I'm moving past him, heading for the stairs.

It sounds like Kevin makes a squeaking sound as he realizes what I'm up to, and I can hear him following behind me, but even at my age, I'm in decent shape, and I'm up the stairs in a matter of seconds, rounding the corner into the hallway.

I don't have an exact plan, but it turns out I don't need one. Some might say it's my lucky day, but I would be hard-pressed to agree, not feeling lucky about the situation in the slightest.

As I start down the hallway, I don't know who's more shocked – me, whose worst fear is confirmed, or Jack, who is just walking out of one of the rooms, rolling the sleeve of his shirt.

He looks up as I'm barreling toward him, and I take some grim satisfaction in the fact that I've taken Jack Bauer completely by surprise. It's not an easy feat.

"You goddamn son of a bitch," I spit, grabbing him by the shirt, and using the force of my momentum to push him up against the wall. My fist connects with his jaw before I even know I'm going to hit him. It's a satisfying sound. Somewhere behind me, I hear Kevin gasp.

I will later think that it's to Jack's credit that he doesn't hit me back, but right now, I desperately want him to engage me. Let Audrey see the real Jack. But he refuses to play along. Instead, he absorbs the blow like a boxer while I push my face close to his. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I hiss, "I thought I made it _very_ clear where the boundaries were."

I'm itching to hit him again, and he knows it. As I raise my hand for a second moment of satisfaction, Jack is already moving. The motion is so explosive, my brain doesn't even register it until Jack and I have traded positions, and I'm pinned against the wall, his hands fisted around the lapels of my suit coat. There's another gasp from the direction of the stairs and a small, "Sir, please!" and I can only imagine that this little B&B rarely sees this much commotion, if ever.

Jack leans in close so that he's whispering in my ear. His voice is low, and even someone with no experience with the man could not mistake the warning in his tone.

"With all due respect, _sir_, you don't get to define boundaries for your daughter."

I can only imagine what will happen next. Though in good shape, I'm no match for Jack, and we both know it. He can drop me right here if he chooses. That knowledge is at war with the anger roaring through me right now, and I want to ignore it, but it's what's keeping me still, despite wanting to struggle against him.

What his next move will be, I will never know, because Audrey chooses that moment to rush into the hall, no doubt alerted by the commotion. I try not to notice that she's only wearing a robe and that her cheeks are flushed. I don't even want to think about what that means. A father can look at his grown daughter, and intellectually know she's an adult, but all I can see at the moment is the little girl who used to crawl onto my lap and make me tell her stories about all the exotic places I visited.

Audrey takes in the scene before her – Jack holding me against the wall, me glaring at him, my hands gripping his forearms.

"Dad!" she exclaims, her eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

My eyes leave Jack's and I turn my head toward her.

"What am_ I_ doing here?!"

Jack's eyes have not left me yet. I feel his gaze boring into the side of my face.

"Your father," he says, his voice clipped, "is trying to give me a lesson in boundaries."

My eyes slide back to his. "My mistake," I reply, knowing I shouldn't let him bait me. "I forgot you have none."

The second the words are out, Jack tightens his grip on my clothing, shoving me hard up against the wall. I grunt as my back protests at the contact.

At the same time, Audrey cries out, "Jack!"

But I'm not sure Jack hears her, so intent is he on me. To him, I'm sure, at this moment, we are the only two people on the planet. And he doesn't want my company.

But then something happens. Audrey reaches out and touches Jack's arm, laying her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"Jack," she says softly, evoking his name once more. His gaze stays trained on me for another few seconds, and then it drops away and slides toward my daughter. When his eyes meet hers, the change is instant. I watch, fascinated, as his dark blue eyes lose their hard look, and his jaw unclenches. Even his grip on me loosens a little, though I'm not foolish enough to do anything about it. Even though he's focused on Audrey, I know he's still very much aware of me. But for right now, he's listening to the woman beside us.

"Let him go, Jack. Please," Audrey says in the same quiet voice that got his attention. "This isn't your fight."

"Audrey," he protests and starts to say something more when Audrey simply tilts her head at him, her eyes perfectly clear and locked on his. There is a moment of silence, and then, without looking at me, Jack lets go of my jacket and steps back. His eyes never leave Audrey's, and I am suddenly aware that an entire conversation has just taken place right in front of me, and I have no idea what was said. In the space of a few seconds, Audrey has managed to do with a touch what many grown men have not been able to do with an arsenal of weapons at their disposal – she has just gotten Jack Bauer to back down.

I take a deep breath and straighten my clothing. I don't care what's going on here between them, or how he's managed to manipulate my daughter. He does not get to have that kind of connection with her, not after everything he's done.

"Get the hell out of here, Jack," I say, almost shaking with the anger that's coursing through me, even as I realize that I have no real authority here.

Both of them turn toward me as if surprised I'm still standing there. They actually look confused that I've spoken, as if because I'm not physically between them anymore, I've ceased to exist. The feeling that I've missed something even though I've been standing here the whole time becomes stronger.

"Dad…" Audrey starts, and I can tell from her tone she's gearing up for a fight.

"Audrey," I say, "This isn't up for debate."

She glares at me, and opens her mouth to launch into what I'm sure is going to be a tirade, when Jack stops her. He literally steps between me and Audrey; he faces her, his back to me. Despite being only feet away, I cannot make out what he says to her, but he's murmuring something, and I can't help but note the change in his tone from the way he addressed me a few moments ago. His voice is soft now, soothing, and his head is bent in toward my daughter, his words for her and her alone.

After a few seconds, Audrey nods, placing her palm against Jack's chest.

"I'll be fine," I can hear her tell him, though I have to strain just to make out her words.

He covers her hand briefly with his own before squeezing it and letting go, turning away from her. He walks by me, his eyes flicking briefly to mine. I can see his distrust, his anger, but he's keeping it reigned in; I'm smart enough to know it's only for Audrey. He walks past a now obviously distraught Kevin and descends the stairs without a word, and I hear the front door open and close.

Audrey and I are left staring at each other. She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand. If we begin this conversation now, I have no idea what I'll say. I don't want to regret anything beyond what I already do.

"Audrey, I'm going to go home," I tell her. "Give me a few minutes. I'll meet you there."

She nods. "Okay."

* * *

After apologizing to Kevin, who I'm sure is not going to forget the events of this day for some time, and making the short ride home, I pull into my own driveway. I get out slowly, feeling immeasurably older than I did this afternoon. Slowly, I make my way down to the edge of the beach, watching the sun fading in the sky. I'm standing in the same spot Jack and Audrey were a few days ago.

I wonder when it started. When I mistakenly gave him a few minutes alone with her here and there? When she first opened her eyes? The week I left for business against my better judgment?

Or was it before any of that? Did it start the moment I arrived at Hackett Enterprises asking for his help?

I'm leaning on the railing when I hear a car door open and close, and then Audrey comes up beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see she's changed into jeans and a light sweater. She looks beautiful, like life agrees with her. But what I'm terrified of is which part of her life agrees with her.

I continue to look out over the water.

"You're involved with him again," I state.

Audrey comes to stand directly next to me.

"Yes."

"I don't suppose anything I say will change that."

"No."

I take a deep breath and release it.

"Please don't ask me to forgive him, Audrey. I can't."

"I won't," she promises, "But I will ask you to accept that he's going to be part of my life."

I turn toward her. "He'll hurt you." I don't know what else to say.

She actually smiles. "Funny. That's the same thing he said."

"He will," I insist.

I expect her to protest, to tell me he's never going to hurt her again. But instead she regards me and then nods.

"He might," she admits. "Not on purpose, but he might."

"Then why get involved with him again, Audie? Why put yourself in that position?"

She shakes her head.

"I know you're worried, Dad, but I don't know if I can explain why," she says. "I don't know the right words."

"Try," I urge. I need to understand this, more than anything. I need to know why my daughter insists on loving a man who will never be able to change who he is. I need to understand how he keeps ending up back in her life.

Now it's Audrey who looks out over the water. Concentration is etched across her face, and then, a fleeting smile. She turns back to face me.

"We fit together," she says simply.

I have no response to her statement. It is hardly the explanation I'm looking for, and yet she's looking at me like she's just crafted the perfect sentence.

_Maybe_, the thought enters my head_, I'm not meant to understand. Maybe it's not mine _to _understand._

Audrey sees my expression.

"I know this is very hard for you, Dad. Believe me, I know. But you know how important you are to me. I love you. I'm just asking that you try to meet me half way on this. Please."

And suddenly eighteen-year-old Audrey is standing in front of me. She's looking at me with her clear blue gray eyes, begging me to understand why she's going to major in political science in college, even though she knows I'm completely opposed to the idea. I know what a cutthroat world it is, and I don't want my little girl anywhere near it. But her arguments are persuasive, and I can see it's already a decision she's made. I know I have to get on board, or risk getting left behind.

I blink, and I'm once again staring at my grown daughter, who's looking at me earnestly, waiting for my response.

I step forward and gather her in an embrace. I'm rewarded when her arms circle around my back, and I kiss the top of her head. She's warm and breathing and alive. Right now. And it's all I can rightfully ask for. I take a deep breath and let it out.

"I'll try, Audie," I promise her. "For you, I'll try."

She pulls away from me slightly and places a kiss on my cheek. She nods, and turns in my arms, and we watch the sun set the rest of the way together.

* * *

_Well, that's the end, folks! Thanks to everyone who has commented so far! Please do let me know what you thought of the last chapter - I love reading what you have to say!_

* * *


End file.
